Tag Archives: food

Starving

Poor Oliver.

He’s so hungry.

There’s nothing for him to eat.

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See that? Those are snackums.

He can’t eat those.

They’re from the OLD bag of snackums. There a NEW bag of snackums two feet away. I should open that.

Because Oliver is starving.

Mooch and Manners

Simon’s Cat has a new video out and the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

I was kitteh sitting Sir Gabe and Princess Jenni this week. When I go over in the morning I like to treat myself to a McDonald’s breakfast. Gabe thinks I should treat him as well.

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He doesn’t believe me that the sausage I try to give him is what smells so good. Maybe he wants my McGriddle bun, but I don’t share that. A Girl has to have limits.

Sometimes people are like that. Kitten Thunder generally have good manners. Yes, they covet our meals from the floor or arm rest. But they don’t reach out and put a paw in our food.

Even when we do something really mean like NOT eat all our dinner and leave it sitting there, taunting them.

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Nothing

Nothing at all.

That’s what Oliver was doing, he says, when I heard someone jumping off the counter in the kitchen.

Why do I ask?

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But what’s that behind you on the floor, kitten?

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Perhaps the shrimp if left on the counter while I decided if the chicken I was eating would be enough for lunch? Yep.

And, since Kitten Thunder hates shrimp, we were both disappointed.

Free the Snackums

This afternoon I bought a new bag of kitty crunchies. I get the biggest bag available since we’re not going to stop serving snackums any time soon. And since Oliver feels the bowl is empty is you can see a hint of the bottom through the crunchies.

I went into the living room to rub Obi’s belly. Since Friday, the belly rub involves piling tissue paper on top of the brown kitten until I can’t see him anymore. When he’s been still as long as he can, he’ll burst from the paper in a full run.

I heard the crinkle of paper from the kitchen. I heard a heavy bag, full of snackums, inch across the floor.

Obi went to investigate.

I sat on the couch. I waited for my came home snuggle. I’d been gone for an hour, after all.

The Boy came home. He gave Obi a belly rub and stacked the tissue paper on the kitten. He looked up at the sound of a bag inching across the floor. Then thumping to the ground as Oliver finally pushed it away from the support of the bench in the breakfast nook.

“I bought a new bag of snackums,” I explained. “They smell delicious.”

The Boy went to make dinner and Obi stood up to follow. But the tissue paper did not let go. It stuck to the brown kitten’s back as he shifted left and right. At first it was fun but then the kitteh stopped enjoying the game.

He tried jumping on the couch. And down. And going under the coffee table. But the tissue paper held tight using Tail for stability.

Finally, Obi sat. He looked at his Girl, and I stopped laughing. “Come here, buddy.”

He came. I lifted the tissue off his back.

Without the distraction, we could hear Oliver in the kitchen with The Boy. He was putting up a brilliant argument, pointing out that The Boy has thumbs. And that Oli was near starvation and yes there was a full bowl of crunchies but those clearly weren’t doing the job because his ribs are just jutting right out of his sides. And this kind of handsome burns a lot of calories you know.

When I walked over to inspect the bag – quite frankly I expected to find a hole chewed in it – Oliver fixed me with a serious gaze. And he issued an order: FREE THE SNACKUMS.

The Best Day Ever

Today is our anniversary. So it’s kind of funny that we had a dinner that centers around the biggest disagreement The Boy and I have ever had: what goes into a tuna fish sandwich.

The Boy has these crazy ideas about adding mustard. Bleh. And he leaves out the sweet relish – pretty much the whole reason to eat tuna fish.

I will say that I never knew how necessary hard boiled eggs are to a great sandwich. So he gets points for that.

The best way to deal with marital strife is to ignore it. So when we both decided to have tuna fish sandwiches for dinner, we each made our owl bowl of filler.

And we each opened our own cans of tuna.

Happy anniversary, Kitten Thunder.

Happy anniversary.

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Squirrels on Rye

The Boy and I don’t eat the same kind of bread. Being the only people in our house, we hardly ever finish a loaf of bread before it gets stale or molds or I just buy another loaf because I forgot to see what we had before I went to the store. This leads to a lot of extra bread.

Squirrel bait.

The same happens with tortillas, though not as often. When it was -20 degrees, I wasn’t putting out food because squirrels aren’t crazy. That is the exact type of weather that they store nuts or whatever for. So we had a surplus.

A giant stacks of the ends of breads and tortilla dregs. I did what anyone would do in this circumstance: I set up a taste test.

The results: Squirrels prefer rye bread over tortillas. But they’ll eat them both.

Next week we’ll be testing to see if they like my wheat bread over rye. Seriously…who wouldn’t?

Russian Foodlette

Oliver hates pate.

Obi hates pate.

Don’t get me wrong; they’ll eat it. But they won’t be happy about it. And, because I love to make my kittehs happy, I don’t buy it. It is also a benefit to me because the chunky stuff comes out of the can easier. This is important because I feed the cats before I’m fully awake.

So imagine my surprise on Saturday when I opened a can and the food didn’t slide easily onto the plates. Pate. The dread pate.

I struggled to get the food on the plate and headed back upstairs to bed.

Then I realized…

There would be more.

The last time I went shopping for cat food, I bought a lot. Like, at least five cans of each flavor. So…there could be four more cans of the dread pate. Or there could have been one stray can of pate mixed into the good stuff.

So each morning we’ll pick a can…

We’ll pull the tab…

And time will tell…

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A kittaiku from Obi:

The Girl serves breakfast
The food plops down, texture free
Eat it anyway